The Land of Nod

Just finishing up a last minute email, I paused to wait for the website to load; my head nodded down to my chin. Bobbing back up to an 'awake' state, I recollected a favorite poem from when I was little: 'The Land of Nod' by Robert Louis Stevenson:

From Breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go, 
With none to tell me what to do--
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me, 
Both things to eat and things to see, 
And many frightening sights abroad 
Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way, 
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.

A few thoughts:

I didn't know Robert Louis Stevenson was Scottish.
The poem did seem longer a kid.
When I searched the poem, it wasn't the one I thought it was.
I still like the illustration with the quilt as a sea of waves.